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Although I shared my “staying in” story some time ago, I thought that it might be fun and maybe even a little informative to tell a couple of “coming out” stories in honor of National Coming Out Day. I hope that you enjoy these stories as much I enjoyed writing them.

Story 1 of 2: Up and Out of the Rabbit Hole, or The Very First Time I Ever Told Anyone (Besides My Dog, Dukerson Pooper) That I Was Gay

There are a few things that I remember about this night: It was the very early morning of July 13, 2008, the day of little sister’s birthday. I was at my friends’ apartment in Tempe, Arizona, and it was still rather toasty even though it was very late at night, which is typical at the height of summer in the desert. I remember that three of my closest friends, with whom I had attended much of grade school, sat with me on a small balcony, and we were enjoying cigarettes, beer and a relaxed, decadent summer vacation before they began their freshman year of college and I, my sophomore year.

Beyond those things…I really don’t remember much.

The actual conversations or circumstances that prefaced my first ever coming out are unfortunately very blurry. I know that I was very drunk. Consequently, I only have hazy visions of the moment that it actually happened, when I first spoke the words “I’m gay” and then mentally braced myself for the halting impact of one or more of the following:

A. Homophobia
B. Disgust
C. Rejection
D. Accusations of deception
E. Denial
F. Sadness
G. Anger (I’m pretty much just listing Kubler-Ross’s five stages of grief now) 

But instead, I encountered:

A. An initial bit of inebriated confusion
B. Surprise
C. From my friends, a comparatively underwhelming but deeply appreciated response of understanding and kindness
D. For myself, a sobering, “Oh my god, what the hell did I just do” sort of feeling that now that I look back at it is pretty incongruous with how relaxed my friends were about it all—a feeling that would describe a lot of my coming out experiences with my friends

It went pretty well, even though back then, I knew that I was freaked out about how real everything suddenly became. Before then, I had never acted upon or really verbalized, out loud or even mentally, the fact that I was gay. I knew that I had been attracted to men and that compared to my attraction to women, the attraction to men came more naturally and powerfully. But I had honestly never thought of living publicly as a gay man—I always thought that it would be something I would gladly suppress so that I could have a perfect wife and make babies the old-fashioned way and we could all live our wonderful, heteronormative lives in a beautiful cottage somewhere. Happily ever after—duh!

Instead, I remember that this was a period of having to accept a lot of difficult things. Having a group of friends who knew that I was gay, and finally saying it out loud, meant that I pretty much had to toss the idyllic snow globe of a life I had originally planned for myself out the window and let it fall and shatter upon the cold asphalt of reality. It meant that, should I want to experience romantic love in all its filmic glory rather than some sort of forced shadow of it, I would have to figure out how to meet and date men. I opened up myself much more to the possibility of adopting children or surrogacy. I knew that I could experience discrimination. And I knew that one day, I would eventually have to tell my family.

As I came out to more and more close friends (who all took it very well!) and I learned more about LGBT lifestyles and families, these sorts of realities became gradually easier to accept. The wealth of support I received on behalf of my friends is something for which I was and still am profoundly thankful. Without them, I don’t know if I would have made it through this period in which I came to understand myself—and the rest of my life—as a gay person. In retrospect, the hesitations and fears I had before about coming out to them seem, quite frankly, dumb. I know that so many people aren’t as lucky as I am to have such loving and compassionate people in their lives, and one of my hopes in telling stories like these is so that the reality of being gay becomes one that we welcome and embrace rather than suppress or reject.

And so, we come to…

Story 2 of 2: The Longest Three Minutes of My Entire Life, or The Time I Came Out to My Devoutly Catholic Mother and Hyper-Masculine, American Football-Loving Father and Brothers; presented in dramatic form

[It’s the evening of January 3rd, 2010 in BRUCE’s house in suburban Phoenix. Bruce, his MOM, his DAD, and his SECOND OLDEST BROTHER (henceforth referred to as THE S.O.B.) are eating dinner on this quiet evening, the night before Bruce returns to college for the spring semester of his junior year. Urged by his friends and sisters who already know and accept that he’s gay, Bruce has been contemplating telling everyone sitting at the table, as well as his San Diego-inhabiting OLDEST BROTHER, Gerry, that he would love nothing more than to shack up with Ryan Gosling and watch Breaking Bad while eating In-N-Out for the rest of his days. His parents and brothers are essentially the final important group of people to whom Bruce would like to tell that he is gay. He figures that after he does this, his parents and the S.O.B. will pretty much tell everyone else in the extended family…and that he’ll deal with that when it comes. Nervously, but quietly, he chews and gulps down some stewed cabbage before he begins to speak.] 

BRUCE: So, I heard you were all wondering if I was gay.

[Everyone else at the table continues their wordless, searingly drawn-out consumption of their dinner. Bruce’s heart begins to thump so loudly that the water in their cups quivers slightly. Everyone wonders when the toothy maw of the T-Rex from Jurassic Park will violently breach through the roof of the kitchen.]

BRUCE: So…did you want to know? If I’m gay?

MOM: Yes.

BRUCE: Well. Uh. I am.

[No one utters a sound. The only thing heard is the clinking of metal forks on ceramic plates. Bruce is about to pass out.]

DAD: Okay.

BRUCE: Yup.

DAD: Do you have a boyfriend?

BRUCE: Nope.

MOM: You’re being safe, right?

BRUCE: Uh, I think so.

[A beat, as everyone continues to eat.]

THE S.O.B.: So, can I call Gerry and tell him?

[END SCENE]

There were a couple more questions and a phone conversation I had to have with my oldest brother, but again, I felt very lucky that this experience went relatively well. Thankfully, the visions I had of being yelled at and kicked out of my house with my mother weeping uncontrollably at the doorstep never came to fruition. Yay!

But what distinguishes this story from the other is that it’s very much still a work in progress. Kind of like the coming out process as a whole.

I consistently experienced support, healthy curiosity, and at the very least, respect, when my friends and sisters learned that I was gay. Not to say that everyone was jumping around in celebration, but I felt like I could be open with all of them about being gay and they would gladly be there for me for experiences like, say, dinner with my first boyfriend (Mr. Gosling, just say the word and I’m yours.).

Being open with my family about being gay, like my first coming out experience, presented a whole new set of difficulties with which I continue to contend. Perhaps the most difficult of these challenges has simply been helping my family to understand what it’s like to be gay, to comprehend the things that I—and millions of other gay people—have to face and deal with in regards to raising a family or just walking onto the street outside of a gay nightclub. I have to show them that me being gay doesn’t mean that I’m doomed to wind up with AIDS or that my children will develop severe mental and emotional deficiencies because they have two dads. I have to encourage my brothers to stop calling certain football players “faggots” in front of my nephew, no matter how much I hate Tom Brady.

It’s sort of funny and strange that we call it “coming out” because it implies that once you’ve made that step out that door that everything’s done, like you’re suddenly breathing in fresh, cool air and feeling the pleasant brightness of the sun on your skin. But I don’t know a single person who has had just that experience alone. As LGBT people, we’re frequently jumping in and out of the closet, coming out to new friends and shying away from people who we think may not be as tolerant or accepting. And once we do come out to certain people, their myriad responses can range from warm compassion to the threat of serious physical harm—or worse.

It is my hope that my stories and that the stories of others (which can be read or watched on sites like I’m From Driftwood—imfromdriftwood.com—and the It Gets Better Project—itgetsbetter.org) can help both gay and straight people to better understand what it’s like to be both closeted and proudly, openly gay. These stories show what it’s like to feel different, excluded, and scared, at times. But I think these stories also have an incredible power to show how being gay can also mean feeling unbelievably loved and uniquely special. I believe that only through undertaking the challenge and having the courage to tell, understand and appreciate one another’s stories can we ever hope to ensure that everyone enjoys the dignity, equality, and happiness that they deserve.

So, I applaud National Coming Out Day and the millions of people who boldly come out…

…to respect people for who they are and who they choose to be,
…to challenge bigotry and ignorance,
…and to champion love in all its forms and colors.

Happy National Coming Out Day!

P.S. For those of you looking for references to help your friends and family to understand more about LGBT people and their experiences, PFLAG—Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, pflag.org—is an excellent resource.

P.P.S. If you take away anything from my stories, let it be this: don’t tell your friends and family important things when you’re drunk! Show them and yourself some respect and do it while you’re sober! You’ll thank me for it later, I promise.

…I will challenge myself (and any other crazies that wanna join me) to accomplish everything in Katy Perry’s hit song, “Last Friday Night.” This means that I will have to accomplish several things in various time frames:

Friday night:

• Dance on table tops
• Take too many shots
• Kiss someone and think that I forgot
• Max my credit card (:[ :[ :[)
• Get kicked out of a bar
• Hit the boulevard (I’m thinking Las Vegas Boulevard)
• Streak in the park
• Skinny dip in the dark
• Have a menage a trois (woo)
• Be unsure about the legality of an action
• Say that I’m gonna stop

The following Saturday morning:

• Host a stranger in my bed
• Suffer from pounding in my head
• Find glitter all over my room…
• …And pink flamingos in my pool
• Smell like a minibar (so, like, alcohol, I guess)
• Find a DJ passed out in the yard
• Discover Barbie on the barbecue
• Have a hickey or a bruise, and be unsure about which of the two it really is
• Try to connect the dots
• Be unsure of what to tell my boss 
• Think that the city towed my car (:[ :[ :[)
• Find the chandelier on the floor
• Rip my favorite party dress (awww)
• Have a warrant out for my arrest (:[[[[[[[[[[)
• Need a ginger ale
• Have pictures from last night end up online
• Be screwed (oh well)
• Struggle to remember last night, as it is a blacked-out blur
• Assure myself that it ruled (dayum!)

Finally, next Friday night:

• Do it all again.

…

TGIF

TGIF

TGIF

(Hopefully, I can work a Kenny G solo up in there somehow)

No, I currently do not have plans to attend medical school.

No, I currently do not have plans to apply to medical school for this round of applications.

No, I have not entirely ruled out the possibility of applying to and then attending medical school, should I be accepted.

No, I am not mad or upset that you asked or were curious about my post-graduate plans.

Yes, I am planning on one day making some sort of contribution to the advancement and enrichment of society and utilizing the myriad skills and lessons I learned while attending my ultra-expensive university. It would also be great to give back to the family and friends who have given so much of themselves to me.

But no, I do not have every single aspect of my entire life planned out at this very moment.

No, I am not sorry for failing to conform to whatever expectations you built around my career when you first met me and you learned my plans and you became familiar with my talents.

Yes, I am somewhat lost.

But no, I will not apologize for letting that happen. I learned so much about myself in college and I’m actually really proud of the way that I challenged myself to strive for something beyond what I was used to, beyond what I planned for myself, beyond what you may have planned for me. 

Yes, I’m a little scared.

But yes, I am trying to figure some things out. 

Yes, I believe in myself and my abilities.

Yes, I think I’m strong enough to make it through. I hope you do too.

And yes, I am always appreciative your support and your friendship.

(P.S. Yes, I took the MCAT. And I killed that shit.)

Things change. This is not a new idea. This is something that happens all the time, in a variety of places, in a variety of ways. Change can be great. It can be terrible. But it happens, undeniably, inevitably, and all that we can hope for is that we have the capability to adapt to that change, to adjust our patterns of behavior so as to best deal with the revolutions that occur around us. If we strive for a return to a prior state, well, I guess that’s perfectly acceptable, but the wheels of time are rarely forgiving of that attitude. Openness to change…it lends itself to the possibility of failure, to be sure, but it also ensures that we take any risks at all, that we make any progress at all. And in our youth, I think that willingness to fail, to explore new ways to do things, that openness to just try, is invaluable in helping us carve out what sort of goals we would ultimately want to accomplish for ourselves throughout our lifetime. Exploration is risk, but ships were not built to sit safely in the harbor. This openness to vulnerability is what has enabled me to post these thoughts on the internet at all, let alone live safely and healthily in this country as a gay Asian-American man.

I have had the sincere pleasure of being a member of one of the most forward-thinking organizations at my university. It is an organization that was founded on the tenets of activism, integrity and enthusiasm—a belief that people who follow the ambitious passions in their hearts and trust in their informed judgments can persevere to effect change in their communities, maybe even the world. I love that within this organization, I have not only been able to meet some of the most kind-hearted and inspiring people I have met in my entire life, but that I have also been able to collaborate and conversate with a collective of like-minded individuals who believe in the power of effective leadership in addressing the issues and problems that we face as a generation—as the human race.

I guess what I’m having the most difficulty contending with in regards to this organization, which I treasurely quite dearly, is the deeply institutionalized resistance to change—or even just trying out something new—that I feel has characterized the organization ever since it emerged from the glorious, hallowed period of its inception. As a relatively new member of the organization, I have felt—and often been told explicitly—that I have missed the so-called “golden days” of the organization, that I never got a chance to experience the truest, purest form of the culture that the organization once used to have. I have seen the incoming members fall prey to the same sort of condescending legends—many of us have been made to feel as if we are steadily moving further away from the organization as it once was, at its absolute best. We are constantly comparing our experiences with the organization with the experiences we feel cheated out of. We are embittered, discouraged, and disillusioned while the members of the old guard look out upon the organization and lament about the way things once were.

But ultimately, I think we are wrong in feeling this way. I hope I may be so bold as to say that the golden days are yet to come.

We say that we must adhere to standards established by those before us, that without those standards, we have nothing, that we are undeserving of respect and legitimacy. I contest that, given the youth of this organization, and quite frankly, a disconnect from the national council that claims its jurisdiction over us, we have full license to revisit and revise these standards as we see fit. The nature of our organization, the very idea of it, is such that it thrives upon the diversity of the leaders that it is meant to empower and the ideas and hopes that those leaders may have. To expect all future members of the organization to fall in line perfectly with our own ideas is short-sighted, and personally, hazardous to us as leaders striving for positive change. We must entrust ourselves with the ability and the responsibilty to maintain those standards that, throughout time, remain applicable and relevant to our organization. We must not be afraid to abandon those principles which we have tested and seen fail or have simply become replaced by more pertinent values and standards. And throughout this formative period, we must continually have the unabashed freedom to discuss and explore the role and purpose of our organization in our campus community, in our development as leaders, and in our lives as a whole. It is always remarkable to see the profound loyalty to the organization that our members have, but I want to entreat them to wonder if they truly love the organization and believe in all that it could be, or if they solely love the organization as it existed in 2009.

Lastly, to the leaders of this organization, I want to encourage them to keep facing their challenges with their heads held high, and I want them to know that their efforts to work with this group of energetic and diverse leaders have not gone unseen. I applaud their endeavors to spearhead new projects and goals, and I caution them to not let themselves be trapped under the foot of dogma. Their work will undoubtedly leave its mark on the foundation of this organization, which, as we’ve seen tonight, is still being constructed, maybe even envisioned. And considering we’ve only been around for three years, I think that’s totally fine. But we all have to do what we can to help build upon that foundation and, hopefully, emerge as a family after all is said and done.